


Everything is Free

by mytimehaspassed



Series: Some Things Last a Long Time [2]
Category: Make Me a Supermodel (US) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, M/M, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytimehaspassed/pseuds/mytimehaspassed
Summary: If Ronnie had met Ben on the outside, if he had seen him on the streets, if Tyson had given Ben the run of the mill, Ronnie’s soft skin and Ronnie’s perfect mouth, well, Ronnie might never have fallen in love.
Relationships: Ben DiChiara/Ronnie Kroell, Frankie Godoy/Casey Skinner/Perry Ullmann, Tyson Beckford/Ronnie Kroell
Series: Some Things Last a Long Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661860
Kudos: 2





	Everything is Free

If Ronnie had met Ben on the outside, if he had seen him on the streets, if Tyson had given Ben the run of the mill, Ronnie’s soft skin and Ronnie’s perfect mouth, well, Ronnie might never have fallen in love. He tells Ben this, whenever he can get him alone, in the bathrooms around the corner from his cell, Ronnie’s dirty hands gripping the metal lip of the sink tight, Ben’s neck on the curve of Ronnie’s spine. In the deserted hallways after lunch when all the other inmates are in the yard, Ben pressed against the wall and Ronnie’s mouth kissing just above his belly button, Ronnie says this and Ben shuts his eyes tight and doesn’t say a word.

Ronnie knows that Ben knows that this is nothing new. Ronnie’s always sort of fallen in love with the wrong guys, pimps and other prostitutes and those fleeting johns, suits and ties and black briefcases with stacks of papers, their clean white shirts that their wives had hand pressed for them. Ronnie’s always sort of gotten himself into these situations, telling them the truth instead of what they wanted to hear.

Ben knows why Ronnie’s in here and Ronnie’s still amazed that he hasn’t stopped touching him yet, Ben’s mouth on the skin just behind his ear, where his hairline starts, Ben’s hand, flat and soft, following the angles of Ronnie’s hips, of Ronnie’s shoulders. Ben has a wife that loves him, the pale pink lipstick staining the starch of his uniform collar, the neat little stitches over the tears and holes, the golden wedding band clinking against the concrete, Ben has a wife that he would die for and Ronnie’s not exactly sure why he still does this.

Tyson used to say that the johns came to Ronnie because he knew the score. He knew how to please a man without saying a word, and those men, those johns with the black suits and the stacks of cash tucked inside their briefcase, they were the ones that craved silence the most. They needed Ronnie just as much as Ronnie needed them and that’s why Tyson liked him so much, that’s why Tyson gave him so much.

With Ben, Ronnie says, “I love you,” and Ben’s mouth straightened out into a grim line, his eyelids pressed tight together, his hands curling into fists, Ronnie knows that Ben is nothing he wants and everything he needs.

With Ben, Ronnie says, “I love you,” and Ben grits his teeth together, his hands on Ronnie’s back, Ronnie’s mouth lost somewhere beneath Ben’s chin.

Ronnie says, “I love you,” and Ben says, “I’m sorry.”

***

Ronnie’s gotten used to the sounds of Perry’s hushed breathing early in the morning, Casey or Frankie or one of the other boys in their block rustling sheets and biting down on moans, fingers gripping the bed frame tight, bare feet slapping against the wall. Perry knows all the new boys by name, before they even make the rounds, before they even affiliate themselves with shot callers, hoping to make their way up the ranks. Perry knows these boys like he knows the back of his hand and it’s nothing sweet or soft or beautiful, it’s nothing perfect, not like Ronnie and Tyson, not like Ronnie and Ben.

Perry will say, “This what you used to do on the streets, Rat?” licking the column of one of the boy’s spines, his eyes on Ronnie, his hands curled around tan skin.

Perry will say, “This how you used to earn a living?” and his tongue will trace freckles and scars and his eyes will be trained on Ronnie and Ronnie’s lip being worried by teeth.

Perry is every man Ronnie would get down on his knees for, only in blue sweatpants instead of pressed slacks, only with a lot more bruises and a lot less cash, his eyes hungry just like Ronnie’s used to. Perry is every man Tyson would turn Ronnie’s way, the ones with the secret bank accounts, the ones that could turn Ronnie’s skin black if they wanted to, if they only had enough cash. Perry is only doing what he knows, living by prison rules, prison morals, waiting until the day that someone with enough ambition can make it past Ben’s watchful eye and finally stick that shank into Ronnie’s heart.

Perry will say, “This what you remember?”

And Ronnie will say, “Yeah,” his eyes turned away.

***

Ben has a wife that loves him and sometimes, when Ben’s the only guard on the floor, sometimes, his mouth flush against Ronnie’s neck, his mouth wet and soft and Ronnie’s low gasps, covered by Ben’s fingers and Ben’s skin, sometimes, Ben calls her name instead of Ronnie’s. Sometimes, Ben’s mouth in the dark of the cell, Perry’s slow snoring below, sometimes, Ben calls her name and Ronnie holds his breath, feels the heat of the tears rolling down his cheeks, his face buried in the cotton of his sheets.

Sometimes, Ronnie wishes he’d never even met Ben.

***

With Ben, Ronnie says, “I love you.”

And Ben says, “Like you loved Tyson?”

And Ronnie won’t say another word, his hands tightening into fists, his nails cutting into his skin.

***

The first time Ronnie kissed Tyson, it was right after a big score, Ronnie’s fingers stained black from fingering hundred dollar bills, Ronnie’s mouth bruised blue from the pressure. Ronnie was sixteen, Tyson was twenty-nine.

This was Ronnie’s sixth week, working his way up the ranks, starting with the back alley gropes and the tight fisted hand jobs in station wagons and minivans with those yellow baby on board stickers, working his way from hand to mouth to ass, the johns that get prettier, that get more stylish, the suits and ties and black briefcases. This was Ronnie’s thirty-second john, not bad for a new face on the block, a new mouth that nobody’s sure they can trust.

Not bad, Tyson says, his hand curling around Ronnie’s bicep, and Ronnie’s smiling wide even though it hurts, and Tyson’s pulling the bills from Ronnie’s fingers, his mouth twitching with anticipation, Ronnie’s eyes big and bright and so happy. Tyson will offer Ronnie some coke and this time Ronnie won’t say no, sniffing a line through one of the hundred dollar bills he’s given to Tyson, two fingers to hold it all in as he lifts his chin up, tilts his head back, Tyson’s hands on Ronnie’s throat, smoothing out the soft skin there. Ronnie’s just kid, but at sixteen, he’s already fallen in love, and Tyson’s mouth firm against his, he can’t imagine this ever ending.

***

The first time Ronnie kissed Ben, Ben’s mouth was small and perfect, his uniform pressed and clean, his hands warm and strong on Ronnie’s face. Ben had whispered something, his lips against Ronnie’s lips, his cheeks red with excitement, his tongue swollen as Ronnie pushed nearer, the dull roar of the prison lost behind them.

Ronnie had sighed against Ben’s mouth and Ben had moved closer to pull Ronnie tighter into his embrace.

***

With Ben, Ronnie says, “I love you.”

And Ben turns his face away in shame, his hands on Ronnie’s cold with guilt.


End file.
